


All Is Fair

by Caput_draconis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Durmstrang, F/F, F/M, Major Original Character(s), Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Multi, Other, POV Original Character, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caput_draconis/pseuds/Caput_draconis
Summary: This story begins at the end of summer 1977. Gwendolin, a young witch from Germany, returns to Durmstrang to start her seventh school year. Soon she'll learn that things have changed over the summer and that the wizarding world slowly begins to darken. Will she darken with it?Story of mostly original characters, even though I have planned to join the Harry Potter World eventually.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 1





	1. Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever and I'm gonna be shook if everyone ever reads this. I'm having a lot of fun writing. No beta, sorry, just word spell checking.  
> Please note that I made a lot of the facts about Durmstrang up myself, so no canon or anything. I'm trying really hard to make it seem as charmed and magic as Hogwarts, but that would be impossible, right? And briefly, the division of Germany into GDR and FRG is mentioned, but I really don't want to be disrespectful towards real history, so it won't be elaborated.

"Tell me a story!", Nikolas demanded, pushing his tiny, cold toes under Gwens ankles and giving her his brightest, most innocent smile when she shivered. Gwen sighed dramatically but put the book she was reading aside (Hidden In Plain Sight: A Practical Guide to Invisible Charms) to wrap an arm around her little brother and let him slip fully under the cover with her.  
Her room - as any other room in the Waldeck' family residence - was already frostily cold a night, even though tomorrow was only the first of September. But fall came early this year and, to be fair, it never exactly warmed up in the depth of the black forest.

"What would you like to hear?", Gwen asked and started to lazily comb through her little brothers mop of golden curls. She had been jealous of his angelic hair for years, as her own remained of a disappointingly inconspicuo"Tell me a story!", Nikolas demanded, pushing his tiny, cold toes under Gwens ankles and giving her his brightest, most innocent smile when she shivered. Gwen sighed dramatically but put the book she was reading aside (Hidden In Plain Sight: A Practical Guide to Invisible Charms) to wrap an arm around her little brother and let him slip fully under the cover with her.  
Her room - as any other room in the Waldeck' family residence - was already frostily cold a night, even though tomorrow was only the first of September. But fall came early this year and, to be fair, it never exactly warmed up in the depth of the black forest.

"What would you like to hear?", Gwen asked and started to lazily comb through her little brothers mop of golden curls. She had been jealous of his angelic hair for years, as her own remained of a disappointingly inconspicuous ash blond.  
"Something gory!", he chiped, his little, cherubic face lighting up at the though. Gwen snorted. "You're the most bloodthirsty seven-year-old I have ever met.", she said sternly. One of the candles on her bedstand died down and with a lazy snap of her fingers, Gwen turned in on again.  
"Tell me about Kendrick the Muggle Hunter!", Nikolas asked eagerly. "Or Sevina, the Slaughtress! She tried to cook two muggle children into black pudding and got burned alive by them!"  
"Who told you these stories?", Gwen frowned.  
"Mama", Nik lied, without batting an eyelash. His big sister snorted. "No she did not. It was probably Lennard, wasn't it?" Lennard was their older cousin, a swanky prat with a brutal sense of humour.  
"Anyways", Gwen interrupted Nikolas' protesting, "I'm going to tell you about the twelve princes. They were all animagi, but one could not turn back properly and therefore had to keep a swans wing instead of an arm ..."

  
-

  
When Gwen woke up the next morning, Nikolas was still laying next to her, coiled up around her fluffy black cat Mephisto. Carefully, to not wake the child, Gwen climbed out of bed and shuddered immediately. Cursing quietly under her breath, she rummaged through her nightstand until she could find her wand and cast a heating charm. The cold room filled with a rush of warm air, which made the old oak panelling groan. The graven mythical creatures on the walls and ceiling rose in silence, stretching their limbs and showing their wooden teeth by yawning. The centaur on the thick wooden door gave her a lazy wink, as she pushed it open. Gwen threw him a kiss and rushed out the room, to keep the warmth inside for Nikolas.

  
"Good morning honey", her mother greeted when Gwen entered the kitchen. She was a slender, small woman in her fifties, wearing her snow-white hair in a bun and a checked pinafore over her dress. Her hair had been grey as long as Gwen could remember. Sometimes, she reminded her of a feather, soft and fragile enough to be blown away by a draft. It was her father that stayed juvenile and full of drive, and sometimes Gwen wondered whether he withdrew this energy straight from her mother.

  
"Morning, Mama", she answered and helped herself to a mug of coffee. "Nikie is sleeping in my bed."  
"I know, I checked on you two last night.", her mother smiled. She left the dishes to finish themselves, hanging in the air, to join Gwen at the table. A gnome, as big as a rat, ran over the worktop, carrying a large potato on its head. Gwens mother half-heartedly reached for hear wand, laying on the table, but the gnome took an adventurous jump to the floor, where it coiled up around its potato and they both rolled into a mousehole next to the pantry. Gwen frowned, as her mother took a deep sigh and they both listened to the victorious laughing of the gnome, cushioned by the pantry wall.

  
"Couldn't you at least try to get a grip on these?", Gwen asked, gesturing vaguely towards the mousehole, where they now heard pleased smacking noises. "You can't let them have it their ways, they're vermin."  
"They're not troubling.", her mother answered defensively. "Besides, your father will take care of them when he's home the next time."  
_Sure he will,_ Gwen thought. _Because that what Papa always does right? Taking care of things._ She didn't know who made her angrier, her father who remained unreliable and absent, or her mother, who never stopped to believe his empty promises.

  
"When does your ride go, Gwendolin?", her mother asked, scooping semolina pudding onto Gwens plate. Mephisto entered the kitchen, as fluffy as a small sheep, and jumped on the bench next to Gwen.  
"Nine.", Gwen answered, pulling her coffee mug from under Mephistos interestedly sniffing nose and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. The red hand read her own name, _Gwendolin Sieglinde Waldeck._ It pointed to _Still time for coffee._

  
Gwen let her view travel over the old kitchen. It was no secret that the dignified and most marvelous clan of the Waldecks had seen better days. Still one of the oldest German pureblood families, one of the wealthiest it was no more. Their old family mansion, deep in the black forest and afar of any desirable and undesirable company, was halfway derelict. Gwens parents simply could not afford the maintenance and repair of the three-floor frame house, with one short, chunky tower and countless (and pointless) oriels and balkonies. The outcome of these financial disturbances (as Gwens father called it) consisted of nearly crumbling walls, worn down wooden floors, cracked stained glass windows, at least three gnome families steadily installed in their walls and a boggart behind the bathroom mirror. The latter sometimes crawled beneath the mirrors surface and turned into Gwens reflection, with the addition of a fat pimple on her chin.

  
Of course, the gnomes, boggarts and the two ghoules in the wine cellar (Gwen named them Diddeldo and Diddeldei) could have been avoided, if their mother had any energy left to protest against these uninvited intruders. But it had been a long time since Malwine Waldeck could find the energy to claim anything. Gwens love for her mother had shifted during the past few years from the unconditional admiration of a child to the equally unconditional, but more poignant concern about her mothers well-being. Oftentimes, Gwen felt like her mother was far younger than herself - as if the white hair and the lines around her mother’s eyes were only a disguise of the fact that she was, underneath these, a child herself, helpless and filled with fear of the world around it.

  
-

  
Five minutes before nine o'clock, Gwen dragged her trunk outside the mansion. The process was hindered by the two brooms strapped onto its sides, and the knee-high cage in which Mephisto hissed angrily. Her mother followed through the graven main door, her arms full of sandwiches and cans of pumpkin juice, while Nikie bustled around her in circles, jabbering non-stop.

  
"And be sure to send an owl when you arrive darling - " "Lennard told me not to feed the ghoules, but they really liked my carrot pie!" "You father is so sorry he cannot be here to say goodbye, but his work has -" "I will be able to throw a quaffle even better than you when you come back, Gwen, you'll see-" “Do you have your pin?”

“Yes, I have my pin.”, Gwen interrupted and rolled her eyes. The small copper pin was attached to her lapel, showing the Durmstrang emblem, a double-headed eagle surrounded by the antlers of a mooses skull. These pins were mandatory at Durmstrang, as students from all over Europe attended the school and there was no common language for them all. The pins were spelled and made sure that everyone who wore one could communicate with the other wearers. When Gwen was in her first year, she sometimes got headaches from the subliminal languages that she did not know the words of, but their meaning formed in her head anyways. Now, in her seventh years, she hardly noticed them anymore.

  
Gwen hushed her mother and brother with a big hug (Nikie did not stop talking about his new broom though). From outside, the mansion looked even more shabby, the once white plaster had crumbled off almost completely and left the red brick walls bare. A rusty old car was parked beneath the driveway, but it only acted as an excuse, in case any muggles would ever get lost this deep into the forest and wonder how someone could live this far from civilisation without any means of transport. Gwen suspected, the dirigible plump tree coming out of the trunk was giving it away though.

  
"I'll miss you", she said, kissing her mother’s pale cheek. "Say goodbye to Papa for me, okay?"  
"Of course, honey", her mother agreed in relief. Nikie jumped up into Gwens arms, and for a moment she burrowed her face in his mop of curls. "Be good, you little nightmare.", she murmured, and he giggled.

A loud snap made all three of them flinch. A bright red VW camper had appeared in the driveway and now stopped right in front of the family with a loud clatter.  
“Goodbye then.”, Gwen smiled, put the clutching Nikie down and tried to balance the huge bag of sandwiches on top of Mephistos cage, whilst tucking her trunk and brooms under her other arm. Nikie started to sob onto their mothers’ skirt noisily, when the front door of the camper leaped open and an old house elf escaped, wearing a crimson tea towel and a rather grumpy look on his face. His name was Rumpel, and he hated picking up the students almost as much as the students hated getting picked up by him. He gave Nikolas a sceptical look, but then took Gwens trunk out of her hands and hauled it into the camper with a surprising amount of strength.  
“Hurry up, Miss Waldeck. I cannot stand about at every stop”, Rumpel scolded, as Gwen threw her family one last kiss and climbed into the camper behind him.

Durmstrang, being a school with a very wide catchments area, had to make sure that its students all over the east and north of Europe would be able to use the same mean of transportation in the beginning of every school year. Because it was impossible to arrange a train that drove from Bulgaria over Poland and Germany all the way up to the north of Scandinavia in one day, the students were picked up in their respective home countries separately and then all joined at the last part of the route. Gwen briefly wondered if all of them were picked up in magical, bright red campers.

Inside, the camper expanded to the size of a living room. The benches at the windows were covered in squashy pillows and the room was filled with the blabbering of classmates and friends that reunited after summer break. Rumpel took place behind the steering wheel and with a loud crack and a convulsion, the camper changed its location, away from the green chill of the black forest. Gwen had hardly the time to give her family one last wave.

The lump in her throat was quickly forgotten, when she heard a familiar voice calling her name over all the chattering, cats hissing, rats squieking and the tunes of a magical radio somewhere in the back. “Mats!”, Gwen shouted and made her way over to one of her two best friends, who lolled on a bench at the back.

Mats had been her friend since she was chased by Rumpel into the magic camper on her first day at Durmstrang. Back then, the dark-haired skinny boy with the wide, scared eyes and the shabby jumper had silently made room on his bench for her and spend the rest of the ride with little Mephisto on his lap, crawling the tiny black ears in stubborn silence.  
He was raised by his mother in a small town in east Germany. Gwen knew that there was a lot of muggle politics in Germany, but she never really cared to understand them. But apparently, living in the GDR (as Mats did) was different than living in the FRG (as she did, Mats informed her).  
Mats barely spoke about his home. Even now, after seven years, Gwen knew little more than the fact that he had a bike (some type of broom with wheels) and that he sometimes babysitted for the neighbours in exchange of some type of spicy stew called _Soljanka_. His mother was a muggle, so his dad had to be a wizard, but he never mentioned him. Gwen figured he must have left Mats and his mother a long time ago. It must be weird, living with muggles and knowing you were superior to them. But then again, Mats was probably used to it.

  
“I thought the old elfhead had forgotten you this time.”, he grinned and gave her a hug. He was taller than her now, Gwen noticed. He must have grown over the summer. “And if he had, you certainly wouldn’t have told him.”, she taunted and dropped down onto the bench next to him. Mats, just like herself, was already wearing his Durmstrang uniform – an embroidered white linen shirt and rough crimson pants, both with engraved gold buttons. His robe, crimson wool with a fur collar and gold tassels, was already hanging neatly on a hook next to them. Mats was always very attentive with his belongings, probably because he had so few.

“For you.”, he grinned, when Gwen was installed next to him and Mephisto was playing impatiently with the closure of his cage already. Mats dropped a small box into her lap, wrapped carefully in dark green paper with little broomsticks on it. A little card on its top said _Happy belated birthday, blockhead._  
“How sweet.”, Gwen snorted, but could not suppress a little smile. Mats winked and let Mephisto out of his cage. The cat jumped right onto his lap and started purring loudly, when Mats started immediately scratching under his chin. Gwen ripped the present open and found a fairy tale book, as thick and heavy as a brick. It was a muggle book, the pictures did not move, and the pages were closely printed. When Gwen scrolled through it, she noticed the stamp of a library on the last page.  
“Thanks Mats!”, she exclaimed, and he grinned happily.

  
About an hour later, the camper appeared on a stony coast. “Everybody exit here!”, Rumpel shouted and the chattering mass of students picked up their belongings and slowly made their way out of the camper.  
The coast of the North Sea was as windy as always and Gwen heard a little first year chattering his teeth because he forgot to put his robes on. He would never make that mistake again. Mats carried the cage with Mephisto in it and Rumpel chased them down the coast to a shaky old pier.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, they only looked onto the grey, stormy sea and started to smell like fish. Then, the water was bubbling, and - as if it had been held underwater by a giants hand - a huge black ship shot through the surface and splashed a wave of ice cold salt water on the first row of waiting students (Gwen and Mats had placed themselves strategically in the back). When a big ramp was lowered to the pier and the students started to enter the ship, Gwen passed by the first year without the robe, now soaking wet and shivering uncontrollably.  
“There”, Mats said mildly, drew his wand and tipped the first years head with it gently. The boy dried at once, and his robe slipped out of his trunk and enwrapped itself around his shoulders. “Th-Thank you”, the first year said with round eyes and when Gwen and Mats continued to climb the ship, they heard him whisper to his friends.

“You should not be so acquiescent.”, Gwen frowned and followed Mats onto the deck. “Nobody dried us up when we got wet the first day.” – “And because we had to go through it the hard way means everyone has to?”, Mats countered, but their discussion was interrupted, when someone shouted both their names and they turned around. Gwen was almost smothered by a firm hug and when she was freed, she was dazzled by a huge smile on the face of her other best friend, Paulina.

Paulina was a polish witch with (old-fashionedly) long auburn hair and almost always a smile on her lips. When they grew older and their bodies started to change along with the perception of everyone around them, Gwen had been frantically jealous of Paulina. Her structured face, her long lashes, her figure that looked like out of a magazine, the fact that she was dating an older prefect, and worst of all, her refusal to becoming an arrogant cow.  
But over the last two years, Gwen had adjusted. Deep down she knew that her jealousy was not Paulinas fault, but merely a sign of her own insecurities. And when the prefect got dumped in favour of a pretty blonde witch who was president of the gobstone club, Gwen did not bat an eyelash.

“How was your summer?”, Paulina asked, just drawing away from Mats, and then, without giving them the opportunity to answer, “Follow me, I saved you some seats!”  
Paulina leaded them though groups of students, chattering and interrupting herself every now and then to answer a greeting or a wave. Mats turned his head and rolled his eyes at Gwen, but she noticed an admiring shimmer in his eyes. _Something had changed over the summer._

They finally reached the seats Paulina had saved, just at the railing of the ship. A sailor passed them, rushing to fasten some rope that had been looped around a pole sloppily. When Gwen caught his gaze, he winked, and she blushed immediately. The sailors were older students, hand-picked by Durmstrangs director, Elis Lindgren. They took specialized courses in elemental and martial magic and were known to usually get quiet reputable jobs after finishing the school. This elite group of students was called the _Harfangs_ , after Harfang Munter, an early director of Durmstrang who had started the tradition of choosing the most promising students and giving them special training. The Harfangs consisted only of students off age in their seventh or eighth school year. Gwen assumed the new candidates would be picked in her class soon after school started.

“Happy birthday Gwen, by the way. Did you get my present?”, Paulina asked, as they all sat down next to the railing. As an answer, Gwen brushed back her hair, to show off the little earrings dangling from her earlobes. The pendants consisted of small, drop-shaped ambers. Paulina squeaked with joy when she saw them: “Oh they look so good! You need a necklace to match! What did you do over the summer, Mats? Eat _Soljanka_?”

The ship began to float through the North Sea and Atlantic Ocean at a magical pace. They only once stopped to board new students ( _Bergen_ , Norway), before they headed directly north. Little snowflakes started to dance down onto the deck, getting caught in the students’ hair and the fur collars of their coats. Gwen cast a heating charm on Mephistos cage, that would keep him warm until they arrived at Durmstrang. He did not like to be packed into a scarf, as she briskly remembered from the years before.  
The sky slowly darkened and millions and millions of starts started to appear on the firmament, forming seemingly coincidental patterns Gwen never quite understood. This was her favourite part of returning to Durmstrang: the ship glided through the water that was forming a motionless surface like liquid crystal. Sky and sea fused to one indistinguishable dark matter. Gwen started to feel the magic form in the velvet black, bottomless room between the stars.

  
“Caution!”, one of the sailors called, “We’re entering!”  
The ship started to tremble, the old planks groaning and the mast creaking. And then, as quickly as every year, it sunk into the sea, as if someone switched the laws of physics off and ships were no longer allowed to float. Gwen closed her eyes just in time, when the darkness swallowed them all.

When she opened her eyes again, the ship was rocking gently on the surface of a wide lake. In the far distance, she could barely spot the water’s edge, seamed with trees; and even more far behind, the outlines of a huge building emerging from the darkness. Everyone around them started to noisily collect their trunks and robes, and Gwen heard Mats sigh happily: “Home at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah; I decided that Durmstrang has eight school years. And sorry for them names btw. If you actually read this until here; a comment would make my day, possibly my entire week!


	2. Durmstrang Institute of Magic and Witchcraft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen, Mats and Paulina arrive back at Durmstrang; and there's a festival happening at the beginning of the school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Gwen will start to make some moraliy ambiguous decisions. This will be a theme btw.  
> Also, a little bit of swearing.  
> In this chapter, theres some more character introduction and exposition. There will be story happening soon, I promise. Also, I'm running out of cool-sounding names.

The giant black ship moored at its landing place and the chattering mass of students started to slowly pour itself on land. Prefects shouted over the increasing sound level and first years looked around in confusion, bumping into others. On land, everyone entered a dirt road into the forest, enlightened by flickering torches put directly into the ground.

  
Paulina walked behind Gwen, chattering kindly with one of their classmates, Andrei, a curly boy who played on the same Quidditch team as her. A few snowflakes made their way through the treetops and melted on Gwens nose, but she knew the snow would not remain overnight. They had one glorious month left, full of emerald green fields and luminous lakes, until the winter would whiten the castle and landscape for the rest of the semester.

  
“Gwendolin.”, a deep voice said, and the sailor who had winked at her earlier closed in on Gwen.  
He had changed into his Durmstrang uniform now, the crimson cape strapped with leather belts over his promisingly muscular chest. The fur of his collar was shimmering preciously in the flickering light of the fires, his golden epaulettes identifying himself as a Harfang. He had a handsome face, blonde brushed back hair and a short beard. Mats caught Gwens gaze, rolled his eyes and pulled back into the crowd without a word.

  
“Elvin.”, Gwen replied and kept looking straightforward. She heard him chuckle, _the arrogant sod._  
“How was your summer?”, Elvin asked with an overly gentle tone in his voice, that never failed to make her livid.  
“Fantastic.”, she snorted and tried to concentrate on her feet. It would be unspeakably embarrassing if she’d stumble and he had to steady her. “And yours? Did you have a lot of fun with your girlfriend?”  
From the corner of her eye, she saw him frown. _Good._

  
“Yes, I did.”, he answered slowly. And then, as the path curved and the grand wooden gate appeared in the distance, Elvin lowered his head and whispered in her ear: _“Meet me after the festival, at the gardens.”_  
Then, he rushed his step and Gwen could see him catch up to a group of older students, one of which was a beautiful, dark-haired girl that he now linked arms with. _He thinks he can order be about like a little bitch, and then go back to his perfect trophy girlfriend like nothing happened._ The anger made her inside feel like acid. _He even forgot about my birthday._

  
“You should really not talk to that git.”, Paulina said, as she caught up and bumped her shoulder into Gwens gently.  
“He fucked half of the fifth years and he’s a right slime-ball, isn’t he?” Paulina gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed an amber strand of hair behind her ear. “He totally is.”, Gwen replied, and linked arms with her friend. “I just really like seeing him from behind.”  
Paulina rolled her eyes but laughed anyways.

  
When they entered the wooden main gate, Mats found them again, and the three friends watched the familiar, sublime castle of Durmstrang Institute looming over their heads.  
Pointed gothic turrets and stepped gables, carried by countless pillars and archways; the whole castle was built of a dark, almost black stone. Gwen felt her heartbeat stumble with joy, as her gaze travelled over the familiar sharp outlines of oriels and the weathered façade. The trees of the woods almost grazed against the old walls and a shimmering swarm of forest fairies whirred around the Flying Tower, which was the highest of them.

  
“Hurry up, I’m starving!”, Mats demanded.  
In the inner courtyard, the crowd split up and everyone headed to their respective bedrooms, to put away their trunks and refresh before the traditional festival in the beginning of every school year.  
In Durmstrang, they lived in shared dormitories, grouped into school years and classes. The three entered a side entrance and climbed a narrow stairway. Gwendolin drew her wand and let all three of their trunks and Mephistos cage float in front of them in a single file. Mats grinned: “Isn’t it great to be off age, Gwenny?”  


  
When they entered their common room, someone yelled: “Ouch!” Andrei was standing right in front of the door, rubbing the back of his head; Mephistos cage lying to his feet with the hissing cat inside.  
“Sorry Andrei.”, Gwen said and bend down, to free her angry cat. Mephisto rushed away immediately, still hissing with offence. Their common room was a round chamber, filled with a few armchairs and tables, pointed slim floor-length windows and a rusty chandelier. A few bats flapped in the truss above their heads, and Flakey - a house-elf with uncouth ears, not unlike a dachshund - was passing around some refreshments. A passage lead to their shabby old kitchen, but on this special first day, the students did not have to cook for themselves. The rest of the year, Flakey helped them with it, but there were only few elves in Durmstrang, and they could not do everything.

  
“See you in a minute!”, Mats called over his shoulder, as he took his trunk and followed the still grumbling Andrei through a plain wooden door, grabbing a handful of sandwiches from Flakeys tablet on the way. Paulina laughed and Gwen caught her friends gaze linger on Mats back for an instant.  
“Let’s go then.”, Gwen said and headed for the girls’ dormitory. Paulina picked up her trunk and followed her hastily.

  
-

  
Half an hour later, Gwen and Mats joined the stream of students leaving the castle towards the Quidditch pitch. Paulina had ditched them to meet with her girlfriend Wilma, a tall blond eight-year. They had changed into their knee-long evening robes, edged with rabbit skin and embroidered with gold. Gwen had undone the emblem from her Durmstrang pin and fasten it on a necklace. Just a precautionary measure, in case she wouldn’t be wearing clothes at one point tonight. Mats had snorted with pity when he had seen the necklace.  


  
“You really should try to save a minimum of dignity, Gwen.”, he said now, as the Quidditch pitch appeared in the distance, enlightened by several big bonfires.  
“Don’t talk to me about dignity.”, Gwen hissed back as they entered the pitch. “You’re pining after Paulina since fourth year, and she wouldn’t give you the time of the day, even when she was still dating boys.”  
“That’s not your fucking business.”, Mats growled, now actually angry. “Neither is yours to care about my dignity.”, Gwen shot back.  
They were used to fighting. That was one of the things Gwen liked the most about Mats: she never had to withhold her thoughts towards him or be careful of her tone. Other people usually needed a hypocritical politeness to feel comfortable, which Gwen rarely had the patience for. But Mats spoke straight from the shoulder, even if it was displeasing.  
He opened his mouth to keep fighting, but he was interrupted by several loud fanfares.

  
The whole school was now assembled on the Quidditch pitch, which - as every year - had been decorated with pennants and lanterns. The bonfires, flaring in each corner, were surrounded by groups of tables, and an exuberant buffet was arranged next to the tribunes. The small herd of the Durmstrang house elfes was lined-up in front of it, equipped with tablets and jugs.  
In the middle of the long side of the pitch sat a stage, on which the teachers were already seated at their respective table. Gwen could see her favourite teacher, Professor Nowak, and waved to him, as the crowd fell silent.

  
A pale man stepped in the centre of the stage and even the last whisper died down immediately. He was tall and wiry, his hair as white as his skin. Under his almost translucent lids glimmered red eyes. The albino wizard drew his wand and made a circling motion. In front of every student appeared a wooden goblet, filled with pumpkin juice. Gwen heard a first-year murmur in awe, as they picked their goblets out of the air.  
“I welcome you all to a new year at Durmstrang Institute for Magic and Witchcraft!”, even though the albino wizard did not raise his voice, it reached every corner of the pitch.  
“For our new students, I’ll quickly introduce myself and my colleagues, before we all shall celebrate this evening as excessively as it is tradition. My name is Professor Elis Lindgren, and I have been the director of this school for the past fifty-three years. I also have the pleasure to teach the subject of Transfiguration.  
To my left“ - Lindgren turned slightly and lifted his left hand towards the teachers table – “Is our time-honoured Professor Eckstein, teacher for magical history.” Professor Eckstein, a wrinkled wizard with a long, braided beard saluted the crowd with his ear trumped.  
“Then we have Professor Piotrowski who teaches Charms and Hexes.” – a tall, proud witch with glossy black hair, who Gwen had always suspected to be half a vampire – “Professor Thunis, Magical Law –” (a stubby wizard sporting voluminous whiskers)  
“– And Professor Nowak, who teaches the Dark Arts.” Professor Nowak waved pleasantly.

  
He was a wizard near the end of his thirties, with dark hair that he usually wore in a calculated mess and a short, dapper beard. Gwen had a crush on him, along with every girl in Durmstrang and probably half of the boys too, but that was not the reason Professor Nowak was her favourite teacher.  
He was surrounded by the disarming aura of infinite magical ability, that even Gwens father never quite managed to reach. Through Novak, Gwen learned that magic was not something to be afraid of or something that had to be tamed. Magic was sheer power.

  
“- Professor Akulov, Magical Sports and Transportation, who also supervises our three Quidditch teams!”, Lindgren finished his round of introductions and tore Gwen out of her thoughts.  
“And now”, the director continued and lifted his hands, “We shall feast and dance and welcome a new school year of wisdom and solidarity!”

  
“Widsom and Solidarity!”, the school repeated in chorus, and everyone took a sip out of their goblets. Lindgren took his place at the middle of the teachers table and a band of grouchy looking goblins dragged their instruments on stage.

  
“He gets cornier every year, doesn’t he?”, Gwen said to Mats, who was stretching and looking over the gaggling crowd. The band started to play a medieval sounding tune and a few people started to clap in time with it.  
“He’s old.”, Mats answered placatingly and led Gwen to a bonfire to their left. “You’re always so spiteful towards him. You just don’t like his taste in music.”

  
-

  
A few hours later, the festival was slowly dying down. The goblin band had resorted to slower music and a few students were now unhurriedly swaying in front of the stage. Gwen was lazily wandering around one of the almost burnt-out bonfires, looking for a house elf to refill her goblet.  
A few fairies buzzed over her head, hunted by a swarm of owls.  
Resining, Gwen dropped onto a wooden bench, right next to the sleeping Professor Eckstein, whose ear trumped had slipped down to the grass. A few metres in front of her, Mats and Paulina danced closely. Wilma had excused herself earlier. Gwen watched her slowly spinning friends as the bonfire in front of her threw out some last sparks. She could see warm light reflect in Paulinas smile. I must be wrong. 

  
“Hey Gwen.”, a voice made her glance up. “Can I sit with you?”  
A boy was grinning down insecurely at her. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail and his good-natured face was tanned and full of freckles.  
“Sure.”, Gwen replied and Levi was squeezing between her and the snoring Professor Eckstein. He was in the same year as her, in another class though. Gwen never really noticed him much, but she vaguely remembered that he was in the gobstone club with Paulinas girlfriend.

  
“Did you, um. Have a nice summer?”, Levi whispered, probably to not wake Eckstein. Gwen doubted that the half-deaf Professor would wake up from anything though, even if he still had his ear trumpet.  
“I guess, yes.”, Gwen answered. “And you?”, she remembered in time that a counter question was appropriate.  
“Yes.”, Levi beamed. “I spend three weeks on a boat, with my brothers. We sailed to England!”  
“Sounds great.”, Gwen lied. Who on earth would take a boat, if there were countless more convenient transportation measures?  
“The trip was, yes. But England was horrid. Have you heard what is happening there?”, Levi asked with wide eyes.  
“My father mentioned it. A dark wizard, who calls himself Lord Voldemort, is openly rebelling against the government, right?” Gwen yawned.  
“Yes!”, Levi whispered agitatedly. “He wants to cast out all the Muggleborns and install a regime of only Pureblood wizards!”

  
_Doesn’t sound so bad, does it?,_ Gwen thought. She had never met a muggleborn wizard, but her father told her they were weak people, brought up by muggles and ignorant of the wizarding societies centuries-old traditions and values. But Gwen knew that it was not wise to articulate those thoughts – even at a place like Durmstrang, that did not allow Muggleborns amongst its students, people were sensitive - and often dumb.  
“Shocking.”, she said instead. But it must have sounded more ironical that she intended, because a frown started to form on Levi’s forehead.

  
“Mr Andersen”, a melodious voice interrupted their conversation. “Would you mind allocating your seat to me? I have an important question for Miss Waldeck about my course.”  
Levi and Gwen looked up. Professor Nowak was standing in front of them, his wand lazily lifted to keep two goblets floating next to him, and a rather amused smile on his lips.  
Levi jumped up immediately. “S-sure, Professor. Bye, Gwen!”, he stuttered and fled towards the dance floor.

  
Nowak sat down next to Gwen and handed her one of the goblets. “I thought I saw you looking for something to drink earlier.”, he said with a little wink.  
“Yes”, she answered pleasedly, “Thank you.”  
“I’m sorry to have chased off poor Mr Andersen.”, he said as they clinked goblins. “But you looked rather bored, Gwendolin.”  
“That’s because I was.”, Gwen snorted. “He kept talking about his trip to England and Lord Voldemort.”  
“Oh dear.”, Nowak sighted. “He will learn eventually that there is no less suitable topic to chat up a young witch, than politics. Foreign politics even.”  
Gwen laughed and took a sip from her goblet. Eckstein was grunting in his sleep next to them.  
“Do you know anything about Lord Voldemort, Professor?”, Gwen asked hesitantly. Nowak took a sip off his goblet.  
“A thing or two, yes.”, he answered slowly.  
“Is he – Does he have similar motivations to … Grindelwald?”, Gwen went on carefully.  


  
Nowaks head jerked around and he caught her gaze. No amusement was left in his grey eyes.  
“There certainly are similarities between Durmstrangs darkest sprout and the wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort now.”, he slowly said, almost drowned down by the cracking of the bonfire. “But there are also some important differences.”  
“What differences?”, Gwen asked. “Sir.”, she added.  
“Well”, Nowak said pensively. “From what I have heard, Lord Voldemorts methods are dominated by a visible predilection for violence. He kills and tortures because he likes to do it and tries to disguise this sanguinarines behind the alleged aim to create a better world for the wizarding community. Grindelwald however –“

  
He was disrupted by a loud yawn to his right. Eckstein stretched noisily and started to fumble for his ear trumped.  
Nowak jumped up immediately. “Anyways”, he said, his voice suddenly cheerful again. “My goblet is once again empty, and I shall take this as a sign to call this a night. Goodnight, Miss Waldeck. Here, Karl-Heinz.”, he flicked his wand and Ecksteins ear trumped lifted from the grass and landed on the old Professors stomach. Nowak gave little wave and quickly stepped away, towards the castle.

  
For a moment, Gwen watched him leave, absorbed in her thoughts, as Professor Eckstein stand up with many groans and loud bone snapping.  
Gwens gaze caught on Mats and Paulinas figures again, being outlines golden by the glimmering fires.  
Then, she bounced up at once and left too. Not in the direction of the castle though, but towards the Herbology gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this makes me so happy. :)


	3. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The School Year at Durmstrang begins, but everything is kind of fucked up.

The next morning, Gwen woke up with a headache. She groaned and fumbled for the glass of water on her nightstand. It tipped over the edge, shattering on the stone floor with a loud bang. Mephisto, who had been coiled up at the end of Gwens bed, jumped up snarling.  
“I’m tempted to kill you right now.”, Paulinas voice groaned from her bed next to Gwens.  
“Couldn’t, even if you tried.”, Gwen yawned, swinging her legs out of the bed. Their alcove was just about big enough to fit both their beds and a chest of drawers. A big window covered almost the whole wall, but the curtains were still drawn shut. Gwen decided that she was not cruel enough to open them, put some clothes on and left their alcove through the doorway arch that was separating it from the circular main room. Around its walls, several other curtain blinded doorways led to the respective cabins of the other seventh year girls. Gwen could her some gentle snoring.  
Still yawning, she took her old broom from its mounting on the wall and followed Mephisto through the door that led to the common room. On a Sunday morning at seven o’clock, it was empty except for a nest of Knarls in the unused fireplace. The mother Knarl fizzed at Mephisto when he wandered by. He took a look at her pointy quills and gave her a wide berth.  


After feeding Mephisto in the small cluttered kitchen, Gwen left the dormitory and climbed up the spiral staircase. Through the windows, she could see dense fog covering the treetops of the Emerald Forest. Gwen didn’t meet anyone as she walked through the sleeping castle. From time to time, a bat or an owl was fluttering over her head, disappearing in the trusses. Durmstrang castle was a nested old building, with narrow corridors, but high ceilings, so that its residents always walked with an ominous darkness loaming over their heads. Few paintings were decorating the stone walls, but the students had made use of that: almost every wall was covered in engravings.  
It was tradition, that students who left Durmstrang successfully were granted the privilege to cave their name into the centuries-old stone. This meant that they would always be bound to the place they received their training at – and swore to esteem its values. Only one student ever dared to break this tradition.  
Usually, the old families had their names carved all in one place. The more often a family name was to read on the stone walls, the more honourable this family was considered. The Waldecks took up almost two metres of wall, right at the main entrance. When Gwen would feel particularly troubled, she’d go there and look for her fathers name, Bartholomaeus Konstantinus Waldeck, just high enough on the wall that she had to tip her head back to see it. It was undoubtedly carved in her fathers curved, careless handwriting, right next to his brothers - Gwens uncles - name, Henning Rudolphus Waldeck, who Gwen had never met, because he died as a young man.  


Gwen climbed a narrow spiral staircase, taking two levels at a time. Her skin tingled of anticipation, when she reached a plain wooden door at the top of the stairs.  
“Password?”, the door creaked and blinked dozily with its knothole eyes. “Ah!” – the mahogany pupils widened delightedly when it recognized her – “Miss Gwendolin! Bright and early!”  
“’F Course.”, Gwen winked. “Password is _Leprechaun._ ”  
“Have fun-n-n!”, the door groaned when it swung open. Gwen rushed inside and crossed the small, round tower room, barely noticing the crooked racks full of Quidditch equipment and showed in brooms, towards the doorway on the opposite wall. The doorway led to nothing but thin air and cold morning haze and Gwen almost forgot to shove the broomstick between her knees, when she stepped over the edge. The wind tore her hair back and adrenaline washed through her veins, when she dashed through the air, the Emerald Forest becoming just a green blur far underneath her feet.  
Up here, nothing mattered, not Elvin and his girlfriend, not the secret looks between Paulina and Mats, not Professor Nowak, not Voldemort and neither Gellert Grindelwald himself.

  
-

  
“You are ridiculous.”, Mats greeted her, one hour later at the breakfast table, over the chattering of the other students and Flakeys shrill squeaking. “Flying before coffee.”  
“No one here drinks that muggle concoction except you.”, Gwen answered gleefully and served herself a bowl of porridge.  
“Paulina does.”, he answered huffily and took a breadbasked that Flakey offered him. Paulina gave a non-commital sound from behind the newspaper in her hands.  
The headline read Coup in England – Dark Lord takes over the british Ministery. Gwen frowned – the black and white picture beneath the line showed a bearded old man with a monocle, cramping a walking stick.  
“Who’s that?”, Gwen asked and nodded towards the picture.  
Mats gave her a look: “The british Minister of Magic, you ignorant brat.” Then his expression darkened. “He’s gone missing. Probably kidnapped by Voldemort.”  
Gwen chewed thoughtfully: “Is he a Muggleborn?”  
“Does that fucking matter?!”, Mats shot back. His eyes suddenly glowed and his neck turned red. Gwen blinked in bewilderment. “He’s the Minister! He has been elected by the people! When Voldemort can threaten him freely, he’s just a fucking terrorist!”  
“God, Mats, you’re such a hippie.”, Gwen rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course not a single person should decide who’s Minister. I just mean – they are pretty loose, over there in England, right? A Muggleborn as their president – and their school, what’s its name, Hogwarts – they even accept Muggleborns there! They sit in the same classes as the real wizards and witches! That’s just unfair, isn’t it? I mean –“, Gwen laughed, “How could they keep up? The poor thighs, they must feel inferior all their lives!”  
When she looked up from her porridge, she twitched. Mats’ face expressed pure disgust, his fists were clenched around his teaspoon. Without another word, he jumped up and stormed out of the dining room.  


Gwen blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”, she asked in bemusement.  
Paulina sighted and folded the newspaper, “No. I mean – you know Mats. He grew up with muggles, he’s a little sensitive about the wizarding traditions and such.”  
“But I didn’t talk about him.”, Gwen argued, now frowning. “It’s not his fault that he couldn’t learn our traditions.”  
“You’re right.”, Paulina said. Then she sighed. “But these events in England really are concerning. It’s just –“, she lowered her voice, “- so similar to the Grindelwald Regime, don’t you think?”  
“Oh.”, Gwen hummed. “I guess, when you put it like that ...”  
“I’ll look for Mats.”, Paulina got up. “Save me a seat in Transfiguration, yeah?”  
Gwen watched her friends back - almost fully covered by long, dark hair – vanish through the kitchen door. She chewed thoughfully. 

  
-

  
The first week of school flew by, quite literally so.  
Quidditch practice started at the same time as the classes and Gwens team – the Wyverns – had practice scheduled nearly every evening. Their captain was a gawky ginger named Aleksander, who once caught a Snitch by body-slamming it into a tribune, putting up with a concussion. Aleksander excepted the same amount of commitment of the whole team and Gwen found herself putting Murtlap Essence on her wrists and knuckles at night, because they hurt from clenching the Beaters’ bat for too long.  
In addition, subject matter seemed to have doubled since the last year. Eckstein demanded twenty inches of parchment on the role of the Goblin Militia during the Thirty Years’ War. Thunis wanted them to read the whole essay by Pandemonia Pendragon about witches rights in the ninth century in Europe (a five-hundred page doorstopper, Pandemonia did not believe in editing). And on top of that, their teacher for Martial Magic – a giant, bald wizard named Gustafson – asked them to practice the leg breaking curse every night for one hour on a pile of wooden sticks.  


Consequently, on Thursday night, Gwen woke up in the library, her head having sunken down onto the wooden desk. She stretched and yawned – it seemed like Advanced Portion Brewing had been served as her pillow and Gwen quickly checked in the dark window glass if the figure of a bisected mandrake had transferred onto her cheek.  
The library was completely empty and mostly pitch dark, a burned down candle on her desk serving as the only source of light. Gwen yawned again and started stuffing her utensils and books into her bag — until her gaze was caught by the huge picture on the other side of the room. It was an oil painting in a heavy golden frame, showing an abandoned, stormy evening landscape. On its dark grey sky, jagged clouds were chasing each other and in the far distance, the storm-battered sea could be discerned.  
For a moment, Gwen wondered what irritated her so much. She knew this painting since her First Year, it had always hung in this exact spot, showing that exact landscape. For a second, she stared at the twirling, painted clouds confusedly. Then it clicked.  
  


The landscape was no longer abandoned.  
A small, dark spot had appeared in front of the distant sea, approaching by the second. Gwen slowly drew her wand and stepped up to the painting.  
“ _Lumos. _”, she whispered and the tip of the wand lighted up. The dark spot on the painting slowly started to take a human shape, tiny painted limbs forming on the canvas. Gwen took another step towards the painting and a moment later, she was standing face to face with a painted young man.  
He had stepped right into the pictures foreground and because the canvas was so huge, he reached life-size. Gwen had to gently tip her head back, because the bottom of the golden frame was at the same pitch as her shoulders.  
The painted wizard could not be much older than her, maybe in his early twenties. His golden curls were constantly tousled by the drawn squalls, likewise his velvet robes. His facial features were delicate, almost fragile, and his skin fair as porcelain. His eyes were as grey as the clouds behind him.  
__

_  
___  


____

“Who are you?”, Gwen frowned. The face of the young man felt weirdly familiar and she was sure she had seen it before. Now he smiled – and his reserved face transformed. Suddenly, he looked warm and friendly.  
“It is very nice to meet you, young witch. My name, I’m afraid I cannot tell you, as it has been effaced from the back of my painting and I therefore forgot it.”, he said without the smile leaving his lips. His voice was melodious, maybe a bit papery. But Gwen supposed that could happen, if one is a painting.  


“Your name has been effaced?”, she repeated with a frown.  
“Yes.”, he answered. “It has been effaced from every painting, every book, every note I ever wrote. I have been condemned to namelessness.”  
“There are worse condemnations.”, Gwen said. She was not dumb. She knew exactly who the man was.  
“I beg to differ, young witch.”, he answered with a wink. “May I ask your name then?”  
She thought about it for a second. But this was just a painting, and besides, what harm could a name do?  
“Gwendolin.”, she finally answered.  
“Ah.”, his eyes found hers. “A fairies’ name.”  
“I don’t like fairies.”, Gwen interjected. “They’re dense and superficial.  
Why are you …” – She gestured vaguely (his eyes were following her wand) – “Why have I never seen you before? This painting has been hanging here for ages.”  
He took a second to choose his words: “I prefer to stay hidden, actually. A lot of people — ah — would not welcome me in this castle.”  
“And you thought I’d welcome you?”  
“Haven’t you?”, he gave her another dashing smile.  
“I obviously know who you are.”, she said. “You’re Gellert Grindelwald.”  
“Your words, not mine.”, but he smiled. “I cannot say this name, but yes. I was painted after the wizard you’re naming.”  
“Then it is clear why you are not welcome in this castle.”, Gwen added. “You’re a rebel.”  
“Visionary.”  
“An autocrat.”  
“I’d call it a leader.”  
“Mass murderer.”  
His smile widened: “Every revolution needs sacrifices.”  
Gwen snorted and opened her mouth to keep arguing, when they were interrupted by call: “Gwen? Gwen!”  
She turned her head to see Elvin, cleaving around the piles of books and crooked library shelves. When she looked back at the painting, Grindelwald was gone.  


“I’ve been looking for you for ages.”, Elvin said, climbing over her bag. “Have you planned to sleep here?”  
“Of course not.”, Gwen answered and flicked her wand to extinguish its light. “Just a lot of homework.”  
Elvin curiously took a look at the painting. “What were you looking at?”  
“Just the landscape.”, Gwen lied without batting an eyelash. She was pretty sure it would not be smart to tell someone that she’d been having a friendly conversation with a portrait of the schools most hated criminal. “Don’t you think it’s painted beautifully?”  
Elvin blinked in doubt. “Sure.”, he answered slowly.  
“Anyways”, Gwen said. “You wanna get out of here?”  
Elvins irritation turned into a smug grin.  


  
-

  
“Were have you been all night?”, Paulina hissed quietly, when Gwen dropped on the chair next to her the next morning, five minutes after their class of Magical History had started. Professor Eckstein, oblivious as always, did not bat an eyelash.  
“Busy.”, Gwen answered and gave her friend a quick wink. Paulinas frown deepened but Eckstein raised his creaky voice: “ If you would now please open your books on page –“  
  


Immediately after opening her book, Gwens thoughts started to wander. She had only slept a single hour and the tiredness weightened her eyelids down. At the same time, she could not stop thinking about her conversation with Grindelwalds painting. Could she talk to him again? Would he appear, if she’d be in the library alone again?  
Gwens gaze came to rest on Paulinas side-face. A strand of hair was falling on her friends face and her brown eyes were halfway closed. Ecksteins monotonous voice buzzed like a meaningless background noise. Gwen could see a piece of paper, drifting though the dusty classroom air like a falling leaf. It landed in front of Paulina and she discreetly opened the note. Gwen noticed the little smile making its way on Paulinas lips, when she looked up from the note, across the classroom. She winked.  
Gwen followed her friends gaze and caught Mats, smiling hopefully back at Paulina. Gwen felt her stomach turn over.  
  


_What are you two hiding?_ Gwen looked back at Paulina, who now scrabbled something on the back of the note.  
_Are you two hooking up?_ A hot wave of anger flowed through her. _Why are you lying to me?_  
Paulina closed the note and poked it gently with her wand, so it rose in the air. Gwens fists clenched.  
_Do not. Lie to me._  
For a split second, when the note started to traverse the classroom again, Gwen caught Paulinas eyes. She looked guilty. Gwens anger flooded her mind.  
_Tell the truth._  
And then, all of a sudden, Paulinas pupils grew wide, circular black holes, absorbing Gwens field of vision, drawing her in, suffocating her.  


  
~

  
“We can’t tell her.”, Mats said.  
The walls of the classroom had transformed into trees, the ceiling into swaying, rustling leaves above them. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the mulch. Far away, they could hear the shouts and commands of a Quidditch Practice.  
“We have to tell her eventually.”, Gwen said, with a wrong, but familiar voice. High and vocal. A voice for singing.  
Mats rolled his eyes. A strand of hair was falling into his eyes and Gwen felt fondness glowing in her stomach. “She’ll just make a fuss about it.”, Mats said, and laid an arm around her. His fingers played with her long, dark hair. “We’re not accountable to Gwen.”  
“I know.”, Gwen answered. “But she’s our best friend.”  
“She’ll be jealous.”, Mats murmured. He tipped his head and dropped a kiss to her temple. “You know she’s still sleeping with this Harfang git. She would never grant us to be happy when she’s not.”  
“Still feels wrong though.”, Gwen murmured, but Mats started to kiss her neck now, his hands wandering down and under her clothes, caressing, pressing her against a tree –  


  
~

  
“Miss Waldeck! Miss Waldeck!”  
Loud noises brought her back. It took Gwen a second to realize she was laying on the cold stone floor. Trembling, she sat up.  
Her classmates were standing around her in a half-circle, some bent over to be able to look at her easier. Their faces showed different gradations of discomposure. Then, Gwens eyes caught on Paulina, who was also sitting on the floor, next to the console she had been sitting at. Paulina stared at her with wide, shocked eyes, a small scratch on her cheek. She had probably grazed the consoles’ metal fittings when she slipped off her chair.  
Gwens gaze continued and stilled on Mats, who was kneeling directly next to Paulina. His hand was on her knee and he watched Gwen suspiciously.  


“Gwen – Have you – “, Paulina started, but Gwen interrupted furiously: “I have asked you!”  
She didn’t even look at Paulinas confused expression, but shouted directly at Mats. _The traitor._  
“I have asked you, again and again, if there is something going on between you and you just lied _over and over_ , directly into my fucking face –“  
The rest of the class began to whisper. Eckstein looked between her, Paulina and Mats. Gwen did not care. She jumped to her feet now.  
“Because you thought I would be jealous, you pitiful little half-blood!”  
Mats flinched at the notation, almost dropping Paulina, who he was now assisted in getting up.  
Paulina stared at Gwen and her voice trembled: “Gwen d- did you just see into my mind - ?”  
The room went silent. Gwen could feel her fists clench on their own, when suddenly every pair of eyes was looking at her, making her feel like a trapped animal. _Why would they judge me now? They were lying to me! I am the victim here!_  
“Legilimency.”, Mats then stated, his voice almost completely calm. “You just intruded her thoughts without permission.” His face showed pure disgust and his fingers were clenching into Paulinas upper arm. “That’s fucking dark magic.” He looked Gwen directly in the eye and said: “You’re sick, Gwendolin. You’re a sick, evil dark witch.”  


Gwen swallowed. There was a dead silence, every single one of her classmates staring at her in terror.  
Gwen whirled around and fled.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of took forever and I'm not at all happy with it, but I couldn't do any better, so yeah. What do you think, did I do Grindelwald justice?


End file.
